


share the same space for a minute or two

by saddestboner



Series: Tumblr Prompts [22]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Friendship, House Hunting, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Trade, Tumblr Prompt, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 02:43:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/pseuds/saddestboner
Summary: J.D. doesn’t know Robbie that well.





	share the same space for a minute or two

**Author's Note:**

> An anon [prompted](http://nullrefer.com/?https://saddestboner.tumblr.com/post/171373860976/what-are-you-so-happy-about-or-how-long-do-we): **“What are you so happy about?” or "How long do we have?" JD Martinez/Robbie Ray- former teammates reunited; not overthinking it, just hotness**
> 
> I've been working on this for an embarrassing amount of time. 
> 
> Title from "This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)," by Talking Heads.
> 
>  **ETA:** I'm not going to delete this but just know that J.D. Martinez has been cancelled and I will no longer produce any J.D. Martinez content. 
> 
> Find me on [twitter](http://nullrefer.com/?https://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://nullrefer.com/?https://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

J.D. doesn’t know Robbie that well. They played a little together in Toledo, but then J.D got the call and Robbie didn’t, and then he was shipped out pretty soon after the season ended anyways. He just lost track of him, but it happens.

Robbie and Nick were closer, which makes sense. J.D. had stood up in Nick’s wedding with Robbie, and they reconnected then, a little bit. But he wouldn’t call Robbie a friend. He hardly remembered they were teammates when he got traded over.

The first few weeks in Arizona pass by in a blur. J.D.’s a little more concerned about finding a place to stay, leasing a car, learning where all the local hotspots are, than remembering a guy he barely played with and hardly remembers.

**Nick gave me ur number. It’s Robbie Ray. Welcome to the Desert.**

J.D. fires back a text:

**Thanks man, got any advice on picking out a place??**

J.D.’s phone starts ringing then and he swipes his thumb across the screen.

“ ‘lo?” 

“Hey. Yeah,” Robbie says. “My agent can hook you up if you want. He’s got an in with this realtor in town. I can come by, help you scope out places too. If you want.”

J.D.’s almost taken aback by Robbie’s eagerness to help. From what he can remember of Robbie, though—which, admittedly, isn’t much—he was eager and friendly. They’d gone to a couple bible studies together down in Toledo, he recalls. 

“Sure,” J.D. says. “Sounds great. Thanks, man. You’re a Godsend.”

Robbie laughs, and it’s a pleasant sound. “So I hear. See you around, man.”

“Yeah, man. See ya.”

***

J.D. meets up with Robbie and his realtor friend at an Asian fusion place not even thirty minutes outside of town. It’s a nice place with a screened in porch, hidden under the shade of palm trees that look almost fake and plasticy.

While they order drinks, J.D. reaches out and brushes his fingers against one of the palm trees. The trunk is coarse under his hand. 

“What kinda place are you looking for?” the realtor asks, fanning himself with a laminated menu. Sweat trickles down the sides of his face and into his collar.

“I’m not looking for anything too crazy,” J.D. says, as he fiddles with his silverware. “Something modest would be nice. I don’t need to show off, you know?”

The realtor throws his head back and laughs, like J.D.’s just said the funniest thing he’s ever heard. J.D.’s reminded of a date he went on that quickly went south when the girl spent most of the evening laughing at all his bad jokes in an effort to impress him. He called her back a couple days later, to be polite, but it didn’t go anywhere. And just as well.

“I got just the place,” the guy says, flashing J.D. a tight, almost smug grin. “You’re gonna love it.”

J.D. flicks his eyes at Robbie and shrugs slightly, as if to say _Can you believe this guy?_

Robbie just shrugs back and turns his attention to his phone. 

***

J.D. only goes on one tour and decides—this is it, this is the place. The realtor tries to convince him to check out other places _just to be sure_ , but J.D. is adamant. He wants this condo and only this condo. 

It’s an open floor plan with a view of the mountains. There are hiking trails within walking distance, and a community pool not too far away. Also, there are no neighbors for miles, which is perfect. J.D. doesn’t like being bothered.

“If you insist,” the realtor says, and then he promises J.D. he’ll fax the paperwork over to him once everything checks out, _asap_ (said like a word, “ace-app.” J.D. decides he hate this guy.)

After the three of them drive back to the hotel J.D.’s staying at, the realtor takes off, attempting to beat out rush hour traffic. He expects Robbie to take off too. 

Instead, Robbie invites himself into J.D.’s room for a nightcap.

J.D. doesn’t really mind. He’s new here, he could use a familiar, friendly face right now. 

“How’d you enjoy your first day as an Arizona Diamondback?” Robbie asks, working on a Miller Lite.

J.D.’s supremely disappointed in the selection of beer provided by his mini-fridge, so he settles for a soda. “It’s nice,” he says. “Can’t wait to move into my condo.”

He doesn’t tell Robbie that he doesn’t know how long he’ll even be here in Arizona. It’s kind of dumb to be renting a place so soon, not knowing if he’ll remain in Arizona for the long term or if he’ll take a free agent deal elsewhere this winter.

But it’s nice to think that he’s found a home. In Houston, he was never really able to get settled. He burst onto the scene, had a few impressive months and then he got hurt. In Detroit, it took him until midway through his first full season with the Tigers before he was confident he wouldn’t get shipped out of town if he stopped hitting. 

(It didn’t hurt that J.D. didn’t stop hitting.)

Renting this place makes him feel secure. Like he has something that’s his, that he can come back to.

“Cool,” Robbie says, putting his bottle aside. “I’m glad you’re here, man. It’s been kinda hard carrying the team on my back.”

He says it with a wry smile; J.D. might be new in town, but even he knows Paul Goldschmidt is the straw that stirs the drink. 

Speaking of... 

J.D. pulls his phone out and sees that he does have a text from Goldschmidt, welcoming him to the team. And one from Greinke too, that simply says:

**Hit a lot of homeruns when I pitch.**

J.D. tucks his phone away in his pocket, smiling a little to himself.

“What are you so happy about?“ Robbie asks.

J.D. looks up, shrugging. “Nothing. I’m just happy to be here.”

“Good.” Robbie moves closer and J.D. thinks—

J.D.’s barely able to start that thought before Robbie’s leaning in and kissing him, his hands resting on his shoulders.

J.D. lets himself kiss back, his mind completely blank, before he pulls back.

“What was that?”

Robbie slips his hands away from his shoulders. “Wanted to give you a proper welcome.”

J.D. wonders how Robbie could tell he’d be receptive. 

“You’ve already done more than enough to welcome me into town,” J.D. says, flashing Robbie his teeth, “but I won’t complain.”

J.D. slips his hands over Robbie’s cheeks and draws him back in, pressing their lips back together. It’s not an entirely well-coordinated kiss—J.D.’s used to kissing people much shorter than Robbie is—but it’s good enough that J.D. feels his body start to respond. 

Robbie presses against him, his fingers curling in the collar of J.D.’s shirt. His teeth are sharp on his bottom lip, and then his tongue soothes away the sting. 

All told, this is a pretty nice welcome to Arizona. 

When they finally break the kiss, J.D. feels like his blood is buzzing in his veins. Robbie’s lips are wet and swollen, and his eyes are glazed over with lust.

“If I’d known you were that good at this, I would’ve asked you to kiss me when we were both in Detroit,” J.D. says, with a laugh.

“I wanted to say something at Nick’s wedding,” Robbie admits.

J.D. stares at him. “What?”

“I thought about it then,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if we played for the same team. But now we do, so—”

J.D. rolls his eyes and shoves Robbie away. “Just for that, I’m getting my ass traded back to Detroit.”

Robbie laughs, knots his hand in the front of J.D.’s shirt, and yanks him back in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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